isobelmtl

Writing under a Montreal sky

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about

Isobel Cunningham has published short fiction and poetry. Her book, Northern Compass is available on Amazon. She was born in Wales but Montreal is her adopted home. She speaks French, Modern Greek ( it’s a fun story) and a little Spanish…oh, English too, of course. She welcomes comments on her blog and looks forward to chatting with you over cyber-space.

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  • Lying

    In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Sweet Little Lies.” interesting, i just submitted a short story to Glimmertrain on just this subject.  My protagonist has a moment when she must choose whether or not to lie. . . .

  • The practicalities of snow

    Ah, and after the enchantment, the magic, the joy evoked by the first snow storm, comes . . . . the issue of parking. For two days I have been getting around by public transportation and leaving my little red car safe in her increasingly snow-encumbered spot outside my house. Yesterday after helping a lady…

  • Snow Bike

    Speeding along in summer and in the breezy haze Of autumn colors, golden leaves flung up By your spinning wheels. Did you dream, in a shredded feather dream Of your fixed immobility on this street-light lit night? I think not.  I think you flew along in the Zen moment of rolling the kilometers under your…

  • Path to morning

    Montreal awakening under the heavy wet snow of December And the little city garden steadfast, galant,waiting Waiting for a glance, a sigh of wonder. The city lamp-post presiding over the white lane and gate Welcoming the birds and the old cat emperor. My first step out onto the little back veranda The happy surprise of…

  • December light

          Some some kind friends got together and gave me this book as a thank you gift quite a while ago. Heaven knows, I had done little enough for them.  They are women of great intelligence and energy who were quite able to become better museum guides than I will ever be.  Is…

  • Caribou

    Made my annual trip to the Botanical gardens yesterday and was most impressed by the outside decorations. Caribou made of natural materials- even some caribou moss, white and spongy, pranced around in front of the main entrance. Yesterday was the opening day of the Christmas exhibit and I was surprised at how few visitors there…

  • Early Morning

    Through  the thick bars of the fire escape through the beautiful curve of the hand rail past the utility poles, the power lines, the branches and twigs of the old tree, Past it all. The day, beyond all that, overcoming night as she will be overcome. obliterating the ugly beauty of forms Daylight bathing the…

  • Water, budget, demos

    On Saturday afternoon I turned on the tap and. . . nothing happened. The water was cut. For a couple if days workmen( and women!) had been digging a mysterious hole at the corner of my street. I admit to a few illegal trips through the lane to allow me to get around the blocked…

  • Magic cat

      Your magic eyes, grave and calm Look out from the cold little wall Close to the church where that morning I took my turn to chant aloud The psalms, verse of the feast And letter, oh, St Paul How often have I tossed my head and rolled my eyes At your stern scolding. Yes,…

  • Reasons

            “not you, it’s me” love absentee his Ph.D. and family tree something for free A Christmas tree he sang off key that  . . . . . Anne Marie a gambling spree too fancy free no referee Well, pardon me! But in reality it’s fear that broke us up For though…